Kristin accidentally locked eyes with Melvin and looked away, a little flustered.
For the first seventeen years of her life at Rozier Manor, she'd thought the place was perfect. Spotless castle, dust-free rooms, fairy-lit streetlamps lining the paths, glowing fountains in the garden—anything you wanted, just snap your fingers and a house-elf appeared. Pure fairy tale.
After graduating, she lived in Romania, quit the Auror gig, taught at Beauxbatons, and spent summers at school instead of coming home. She'd seen normal wizard families. Lived with Muggles. Now, two years later, stepping back into this manor—facing the elf butler and the estate—she felt… ashamed.
She frantically waved that she needed nothing, no service for the short walk ahead. The butler bowed anyway, greeting the guest with over-the-top courtesy before popping away.
Kristin remembered asking her parents why Beauxbatons didn't have house-elves to greet students. Her mother, ever regal, said it was the hallmark of an ancient wizard family—class Beauxbatons couldn't match.
Back then, she'd loved it. House-elves were attentive nannies—always there to play, fulfill every whim. Little Kristin didn't even need words—just a look, a gesture, and poof: food, candy, toys.
Midsummer nights, the castle lit up, fairies danced in the gardens. She'd run barefoot by the hot springs, earning her father's delighted praise.
Now? It all felt like rotten old-money baggage. Normal wizard families with elves didn't whip them into submission. The lavish gardens and lamps weren't for kids—they were for showing off at holiday galas, trading guests' envy for Rozier prestige. Useless, extravagant flexing.
The family was fading. Old admirers wouldn't even visit anymore. Her mother clung to the extravagance—not wrong, just desperate to keep the Rozier name from becoming a punchline.
Pushing Kristin into alchemy and related careers? All to revive the family. Back then, Kristin only felt used, unloved. So she ran—to Romania, to Aunt Vida.
She'd been in Paris for her Beauxbatons interview but couldn't face her parents. Lingered at the gate, then fled.
This time? The Salem cult gave her a legitimate excuse.
Melvin, meanwhile, had zero thoughts about the elf's manners. Walking to the entrance hall, he gawked like a Muggle-born first-year at Hogwarts—everything wizardy and new. Fairies circling the lampposts? He'd stop and stare every time.
Hogwarts and Ilvermorny used fairies for big holidays, but never as everyday lighting. Nesting them in lampposts while keeping them alive and happy? That took alchemy and creature behavior know-how.
Kristin glanced at the young professor, feeling the need to explain:
"France is a lot like Britain—tons of ancient wizard families. In some ways, our history runs deeper. Some British pure-blood lines came from French wizards who crossed with William the Conqueror and started new families."
Melvin eyed the grand castle ahead. "From a Muggle Studies angle: wizards live longer, magic makes wealth easier. Pre-Secrecy Statute, wizard families expanded faster and lasted longer than Muggle nobility."
Malfoy and Nott ancestors came with William—struggling nobodies before they made it big.
Rozier and Lestrange? Deeper roots. Prominent in both Britain and France, branches across continents. Some went to North America during the immigration waves—never took off.
"French Ministry formed late. Wizards here didn't care much about the Statute. Families did business with Muggles—no big pure-blood mania. Then Grindelwald and the purists stirred hate—not for blood purity, just wizard supremacy.
"After Grindelwald fell, purists got purged. International Confederation cracked down. Death Eaters rose. Last few decades? French wizard views flipped in wild ways. Some push pure-blood. Some cozy up to Muggles in Budapest. Others say wizards and Muggles are equal—but keep strict Secrecy and distance."
Kristin slowed. Aunt Vida was core purist. She was half next-gen purist herself. "Divisions breed chaos. Five Ministers in a row—none lasted. Factions tear each other apart. That's why Bonnel can't fully commit to the investigation."
Melvin nodded. "So what's this got to do with inviting me?"
"Rozier's too deep in the mess. We win some, lose more—overall, we're fading. Mom's obsessed with damage control and revival. No special reason? She won't lift a finger."
Kristin paused. "We need a big name. Someone with weight."
"I'm the big name?" Melvin laughed.
"You are."
She met his dark eyes. "Order of Merlin. Romania Ministry VIP. Shadow Mirror Club founder. Those titles carry way more clout than you think."
"I show up and your mom listens?"
Melvin found it odd. Outsider vs. daughter—who wins?
Kristin walked beside him, staring at the lit entrance. Voice soft: "When you meet her, say you're interested in expanding shadow mirrors to France. Mom and Aunt Vida know the profits from letters. To win the club founder's favor? She'll send people to help track the Obscurial."
Melvin side-eyed her. "You're selling out your family?"
"I'll make it up."
She didn't say how. He didn't push.
Not really a sell-out. Investigation wasn't combat—careful, low risk. Hiring local wizards would work, but no time to organize. Post-cult/Obscurial cleanup? Rozier gets face with Maxime and the Ministry. Worth it.
Up marble steps into the hall—bright but empty. Circular room, twin curved staircases. Melvin trailed Kristin, eyeing decor discreetly. Not very wizardy—no family-tree tapestries, no magical ancestor portraits.
Reading his mind, Kristin murmured, "North tower has the portraits and genealogy. Also, we don't have ghosts."
"I wasn't looking for ghosts."
Weak defense.
A soft cough from the stairs. Both looked up.
The real lords of the castle.
Mr. Rozier: pudgy middle-aged wizard, Mediterranean hairline, graying sides. Bland face—blend into a Louvre crowd. Only close family could pick him out.
Mrs. Rozier? Memorable. Just standing there, every light in the room seemed to focus on her. Folded hands, straight posture—pure pure-blood poise training.
Tall frame, still hinting at youthful grace. Pale skin, faint neck lines. Thin, sharp lips. Thick gold hair fading to ash-blond roots.
But the eyes—Rozier eyes. Kristin's were soft lake-blue. Hers? Glacial, piercing ice-blue. Crystal-clear whites. Calm, penetrating stare.
One glance and Melvin felt assessed: background, breeding, worth.
Kristin's voice soured slightly: "Mother, Father…"
"You remember you have a home!" Mr. Rozier teased. "Didn't want alchemy? Fine. But vanishing to Romania without a word? If not for Vida's letter, your mom would've—"
Cough.
Mrs. Rozier cut him off, voice clear but not loud: "Nino said you brought a guest. No introduction?"
Kristin glanced at Melvin, switched to English: "Professor Levent from Hogwarts. I'm sure Aunt Vida mentioned him. Professor, my parents."
Mrs. Rozier's gaze shifted, candlelight and chandeliers reflecting in ice-blue eyes—thoughts unreadable. "Professor Levent. What a surprise."
"Pleasure to meet you both." Melvin relaxed—elite wizard education meant they spoke languages.
…
Formal, pointless small talk as the Roziers descended.
To Kristin's shock, the vibe was warm. Like Melvin's presence erased old family tension. Mrs. Rozier's icy demeanor thawed. Mr. Rozier chattered away.
Mother-daughter tension? Subtle.
"Rushed home—have you eaten? I'll have the kitchen warm dishes. Dinner table talk?" Mrs. Rozier offered.
Mr. Rozier wanted Melvin to stay—extra time to mend fences. Extra enthusiastic.
Melvin had chased the Obscurial all day. Lunch? A hot dog. Dinner sounded perfect.
Family of three plus guest moved to the side hall. House-elves served: caviar on toast, white truffles, foie gras, raisin Danish, dramatic lobster. Absurdly lavish—not "whipped up."
Melvin saw it was for the long-gone daughter. He faded into the background, letting Kristin shine.
"We know you're assistant teaching at Beauxbatons—doing great. Christmas gift was Pyrenees specialty. I wanted to write, invite you home for the gala. Your mom… burned my letter in a huff."
Mr. Rozier treated it like a normal family dinner, rambling: "You two—same mold. Miss each other but too stubborn to say it."
"I wanted to tell you after I made full professor."
"Professor? Exhausting hassle…"
Melvin sipped authentic French cuisine, stayed quiet. Professor was a hassle—especially under Dumbledore.
Warm reunion lasted through appetizers. Then Mrs. Rozier took the reins, voice smooth, drowning father-daughter chatter: "Professor Levent, Mirror Club must keep you busy. What brings you to Paris?"
"Summer travel."
Melvin slowed his fork.
"Visited the wizard markets yet?"
"Just got here a couple days ago—no time."
"Ever considered expanding shadow mirrors to France? Huge market. Rozier family can help the club grow."
Melvin sipped wine, caught Kristin's eye.
Showtime.